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It was after that that I’d had the bracelets made for Caius and myself. I chose Lapis Lazuli because the stone represented truth. I wanted him to know as far as I was concerned, that no matter this strange turn with my father, he and I were brothers. Period. The end. That was all there was for me.
Yes, more people than Caius and I wear this particular stone, but the fact that I found it on the catwalk the night I found Madelena passed out there is troubling because the bracelet is also suddenly absent from my brother’s wrist. Caius has worn that bracelet every day since I gave it to him.
But this isn’t the time to ponder this. I have to deal with Madelena’s brother now.
“How was Odin when you picked him up?” I ask as Val unlocks the basement door.
“Not surprised.”
“Hmm.”
Val pulls the door open, and we descend. A light is on in the large, unfinished space. It’s mostly empty apart from spare furniture stored here. A single man stands guard. In the middle of the room sits Odin De Léon, elbows on the small table, his fingers steepled, his chin resting on his hands. He turns when he sees us and makes to stand, but the soldier at his back sets his hand on Odin’s shoulder and pushes him back down.
He glares at me as I walk around the small desk and take the opposite chair. I lean back against it, sliding my hands into my pockets. The gesture should be casual but my fingers curl around that stone, and I’m reminded how fucked up things could truly be.
“Where is my sister?” he asks, tone hostile.
“She’s in my bed,” I tell him with a smirk.
He grits his teeth and although he doesn’t utter a word, his eyes speak volumes.
“She’s probably got a concussion, thanks to you. But she’s alive and she’s safe. No thanks to you on that part.”
He’s clearly surprised, but that surprise morphs into concern in a split second. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I set my elbows on the table and lean toward him because I’m fucking pissed. “If you’re so concerned about her, why would you tell her about the surveillance footage without having any fucking context?”
“Context?” He raises his eyebrows. “What context do I need? You were at our uncle’s house the night he was murdered—”
“Drowned officially.”
“Bullshit.”
“Agreed.”
He opens his mouth then closes it. He’s clearly puzzled by my shared assessment of how his uncle died because a moment passes before he responds. “You were at his house. You spent a fucking hour murdering him. Probably torturing him. Cleaning up after yourself. I have no fucking idea what you did. And then you left checking your fucking watch like you had somewhere to be.”
“That’s a lot of blanks you’re casually filling in.”
“Oh? It doesn’t take a genius to fill in those blanks. Any judge and jury will see that.”
“Who’s seen the footage?” I ask because I have two problems here. One being the person or people who have a copy of it and sent that photo to Madelena, and the second being Odin and whoever he worked with to get his hands on a copy.
“No one,” he says, shifting his gaze away.
“You’re a shitty liar, you know that? Try again.”
“Or what? You’ll nail my hands to the table?”
“No. I’ll only do that if you touch what’s mine.”
A beat passes. He studies me because he knows what I’m talking about. Who I’m talking about. “My sister loved her uncle. She was the one closest to him.”
“Let’s just get a few things out in the open here. You and I both know your Uncle Jax wasn’t exactly a saint.”
He keeps his mouth shut and tilts his chin stubbornly up. He knows what I’m talking about.
“And you’re going to tell your sister exactly that.”
